On Friday morning, torrential downpours began in Brisbane and haven't abated since. The river is flooding, already six lives have been lost, and homes and streets are under water, just as they were in 2011 when the last major flood occurred.
I find it difficult to believe it's all happening again, but it is, and the surreal distress of seeing familiar places disappear feels the same as it did then. The creek that runs near my home has reached over all the smaller bridges and up the bike paths and into the parks. River debris and rubbish are building up against submerged fences. The local ovals looks like shallow marsh lakes.
It's worse in some of the riverside suburbs. One is New Farm, where today I was meant to hold a book event at the Powerhouse Theatre to celebrate the publication of The Sorrow Stone. Naturally, we've had to postpone: there is water rising under and around the venue, and the main road there, Brunswick Street, is blocked in places.
The cancellation of a book event is a very minor inconvenience, but of course I'm disappointed it can't go ahead. We had sold some 400 tickets, and it was to be an exciting launch for the book. But we should be able to re-schedule a Powerhouse event a little later in the year, and in the meantime I'll also be flying to Sydney for a lunch event being held on Friday - my first interstate trip since the pandemic began. With luck, my next post in this series of travels with The Sorrow Stone will be from there.
|A submerged foot bridge, Enoggera Creek, Ashgrove|